


As Thanks To You a.k.a. The Cake Incident

by scarecrowslady



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Loki Month, Tomki, Written for, birthday fic, if you squint hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrowslady/pseuds/scarecrowslady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hiddleston has been receiving a cake and presents every year around his birthday time. Who is sending it - and why? Will Tom ever figure it out? And what will he do when two worlds collide in a bizzare way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Thanks To You a.k.a. The Cake Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Loki Month and also in honour of Tom's Birthday. Just a tad bit late - but I managed to get it in at 3 AM before zonking out. LOL. Yep. Late.
> 
> This fic wasn't super plotted out and it shows, I think. Regardless, it was a lot of fun to write and I hope it will be a lot of fun to read!

> "Though this be madness, yet there is method in ‘t.". - (Hamlet, Act II, Scene II)

-February 2012-

Tom had always considered himself a man of modest tastes. So when the first truck of fanmail arrived at his front door overflowing with teddies and letters and clothing and music and books and fanmail and fan art and fanfiction and essays and poetry and flowers and other paraphernalia, he had been, to put it mildly, flabbergasted. _What to do with all of it?_ He had wondered as the poor postman lugged in box after box. After five minutes of shuffling the first three bins further in, Tom had darted out after the man and had helped the poor bugger fill up the trolley and bring it upstairs.

That had been an interesting way to start one’s morning.

Of course, afterwards, when the agency heard of it, they arranged for the post to divert most of the fanmail to them and Tom’s managing staff. From that time onward, on the odd day when Tom found himself free, with a dutiful heart and a spark of curiosity, he sorted through a bin or two and answered his fanmail. _Sarah and Em will never let me live this down_ , he had thought as he held up a picture of Loki and him snogging on some kind of Asgardian bed. _Hell, I’ll never let me live this down_ , Tom had then giggled a little and signed another card in thanks of the _generous_ fan work.

So, the day Tom found a large non-descript box parked outside his door with a smudged address and postage coming from the direction of Notting Hill over which he raised an eyebrow. _A fan mail? Arrived here?_ He wondered. _Fan mail from Notting Hill? Wonders never ceased._

Inside was a birthday card addressed to him - a green and gold affair with a short Happy Birthday message written on the inside. _Happy Thirty-First Birthday, Thomas William Hiddleston. May this year be full of blessing for you_ , _from A Friend_ , Tom read mentally as he gazed with trepidation at the sizable brown box before him.

It was a good two feet tall by three feet wide bound with course twine and, underneath, brown paper. _Should I open it? Should I drag it in? Should I have it brought to the office and scanned?_ Tom could see it now. He could see his manager giving him that Look which usually meant ‘this is worth the fuss?’ but more often meant ‘what were you thinking, Tom, what were you thinking?’

_Perhaps I can just open it a little and then decide._

"That’s the plan," Tom murmured to himself as he carefully inched the box into his flat. "Let’s see…"

Once in, the actor quickly found some scissors, cut off the twine methodically and the paper not so methodically before finally popping off the top of the green and gold polka-dotted black box. Revealing a giant green, gold and black cake.

Tom stared at it. Blinked.

It didn’t go away.

A cake.

A magnificient cake.

A round, seven-tiered, overwhelmingly iced cake of magnificient proportions the like of which he had rarely seen in his life.

Well, there was that cake at his sister’s wedding - but for some reason, Tom thought that this particular one was larger than normal.

Was he supposed to eat it ALL by himself? Was he supposed to eat it? _Wait… Can I eat it?_ Tom wondered. _Should I try it without someone testing it first?_ Tom imagined someone testing it for him and dying in his stead. The soft-hearted actor shuddered. _Hell, no_ , he decided. _If it’s my poisoned cake, I’ll have to eat it too._

With that, the blonde-haired man fetched a fork and and knife and plate and, cutting the sides away from the gift, Tom settled down for a sampling.

Fifteen minutes later, Tom was finishing up his first serving, enjoying every lick of the delicately sweetened mint and vanilla cake with the pop of chocolate on the side. No sign of poisoning or uneasiness. _Although_ , Tom reminded himself, _poison sometimes takes time to set in, so you’ll have to wait to really find out. When - not if - when Luke finds out, he’s going to kill you anyways and you’ll feel like tit, that’s what, Tom._

A ring on the buzzer. Tom rose, checked the screen, saw that it was Luke looking his usual smooth self (hiding underneath that exterior, however, Tom knew there was a plethora of anxiety and worry-warting going on). Letting in his publicist and event handler, Tom suddenly hunched with guilt as he realized that sooner than later Luke would hear about The Cake Incident.

It had already got capitals in Tom’s head.

Yes, even worse than Luke hearing about it, he’d be seeing it first hand. The only thing that stopped Tom from really worrying was the fact that Luke was the ultimate professional and would die before drawing unwanted, negative attention toward his clients.

"Tom, just got a few more papers for you to sign real quick before we go over for the-"

Luke stopped at the sight of the cake. The Cake. The Cake Of Unspeakable Magnificence.

"Tom."

A calm voice. Tom eased back, rubbing his hands and then his mouth and chin trying to erase (too late) the traces of mint and chocolate icing.

"What is that?"  
"A cake."  
"Yes, I see that. You went out and bought - I mean… look at that size…"  
"I - well -"  
"To-om."

 _The Warning Voice. Not good._ Tom shifted back again and shuffled around to where he had sat, where his condemning plate and fork and knife sat.

"Where did you get it?" asked Luke casually.  
"Um, well," Tom glared down at The Evil Cake Of Unspeakable Magnificent Proportions. "It was in front of my flat. A gift, I suppose."  
"So you had to bring it in and try it," Luke sagged back into one of Tom’s nearby wood chairs. "Of course."  
"Well - I couldn’t just let it sit there."  
"You could, you know. You could call us and double-check -"  
"I’m fine," Tom averred.  
"For now," Luke said darkly.  
  
With a sigh, he straightened, put the matter aside and opened up his leather briefcase to pull out a few sheets and accompanying black fountain pen for Tom to sign the required forms. After reading through the sheets (relating to travel and insurance), Tom dutifully signed the sheets, managed to press on Luke a gargantuan piece of The Magnificiently Seductive Cake, helped himself to seconds and discussed their upcoming travel plans.

Therefore, thanks to Tom’s busy schedule and the following activities, Tom’s odd birthday gift was forgotten.

Until the next year.

-February 2013-

Maybe it was the recent fan-girls’ craziness, maybe it was because he was tired and it had been a hard night driving back from short weekend jaunt he had taken to his mum’s for a quieter birthday celebration… Tom was tired. He had had enough on his plate already. Surprises weren’t really what he wanted for the evening.

 _Well, there were some good surprises_ , the lanky actor amended. His father had stopped in too. _That had been nice_ , Tom thought wistfully as he parked his car and made his way up to his flat. _And -_

Tom’s rambling thought processes ground to a halt as he took in what stood by his door. Seven black packages of varying heights and widths, all with twine and the rough butcher paper and the same smudged addresses. _Really_ , Tom thought crossly, _the post allows for this sort of thing?_

He sighed as he contemplated his options. Tom could ignore them. Tom could drag them in and open them. Tom could call someone and get THEM to deal with the boxes. Tom could drag them and then call for someone to come the following morning to deal with them. _Yes. That sounds about right_ , Tom nodded. _Luke will be so proud._

Still, the next morning, after his morning run, Tom was much more refreshed, and after a quiet breakfast consisting of two cups of coffee and some toast and an orange and a short read of the newspaper and a quick check of his email, the actor was feeling immensely cheered up. Trying to ignore the packages became increasingly impossible and after staring at the stacks which sat closer to the front door than to open living room, Tom found himself caving in.

A little bit.

He was remembering The Magnificent Cake One Could Never Forget.

Out came the scissors and, in a short time, all the boxes were opened each containing the most bizarre things. The card looked almost the same. It said the same thing, that was for sure: _Happy Thirty-Second Birthday, Thomas William Hiddleston. May this year be full of blessing for you_ , _from A Friend_. And The Cake looked just as amazingly minty and chocolatey at the same time. Who was he to resist?

“Damn it,” Tom muttered to himself as the same plate and knife and fork were dragged out to do The Seductive-As-Ever Cake of Mint Chocolatey Goodness justice. “Luke is going to have your head for this, Tom. If I gain too much weight before _Crimson Peak_ , I’ll be a dead man.”

He ate a large, healthy slice anyways and opened the smaller (relatively smaller) boxes, revealing black, gold and green trainers (the three colours were an obvious Loki theme, Tom supposed), a scarf of superb quality with the brand of Forzieri (which he hoped was a knock off because otherwise…), Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses ( _Who was this person? Seriously?_ ), a set of Encyclopedia Brittanica, a Hermes Steve Besace messenger bag (which Tom set back reverently back in it’s box and vowed to himself never to remove again) and a lovely replica of Loki’s helmet.

 _Loki’s horned helmet_ , Tom thought helplessly as he turned the life-sized reproduction in his hands, _nicely made… but what do I do with it? Seriously…_

Tom decided that he should call Luke. After the initial introductory niceties had gotten out of the way, Tom forged onward.

“Hey, man, look here. The mysterious Birthday Present Giver struck again.”  
“Oh, no – really?”  
“Yes, birthday cake and everything.”  
“And everything?” Luke’s voice sounded suspicious over the phone.  
“There were some gifts. Nothing scary – unless you count the price it must have cost-”  
“Pardon – excuse me, sorry, Tom, you opened them?”  
“Um, yeah, well, yes…”  
“I thought you were going to leave that to us.”  
“I got curious!” protested Tom.  
“Hm. OK. Tim and I are coming over. Don’t do anything too crazy.”  
“Sure. Be ready to eat cake,” Tom hung up.

Setting down his mobile, Tom contemplated the mystery again. _Obviously who ever this was really liked him. A lot. Most fans do_ , he reminded himself, _just few go this far. And who is it?_ Tom glared at the smudged ink. _There’s an address here. I could track it down to the neighbourhood at least… but… what would I do then? Go door to door like some bloody salesman or good Samaritan – oh, hello, sorry, I’m Tom Hiddleston, I’m wondering if these are your items, yes, yes, Tom Hiddleston who did Loki in Thor, yes, of course, yes, an autograph and picture is fine…_ Tom slumped back in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. _I need to thank them at the very least… maybe if I post something on Twitter. A thank you note for the horns with a picture of me wearing them. That would be great._

So that was what Tom did. However, no one came forward to claim their prize, no one attempted to make contact with him through the Agency on the matter and Tom ate cake for a week straight – right up until he flew out to Toronto for _Crimson Peak_.

-February 2014-

Tom got The Cake Which He Could Never Forget For The Life Of Him It Was That Good and seven presents including, among other things, a new watch, a Hot Toys Loki, a ring and a piece of crystal.

-February 2015-

There was no surprise when a week after his birthday, seven presents and a cake showed up outside his flat. More strange gifts, a few of which Tom put away into storage and promptly forgot. But he loved the Armani suit.

-February 2016-

Tom’s small back room where he gathered his most precious fan gifts was getting a bit stuffed. Still, even after going through it for the fourth time in the most vicious purge, he still could not throw away his mysterious friend’s gifts. When The Cake And All Its Awesomeness arrived, Tom felt relief. In a small way, he’d come to enjoy the whole thing and look forward to it.

Mint chocolate had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

-February 2017-

Thor 3 having been released successfully, Tom felt more alive than ever, leaving Loki and his hijinks behind and basking a little in the following praise and fame that ensued in the usual wake of a Marvel film. _A job well done_ , he thought, _not perfect but something that was fun and everyone enjoyed it – and isn’t that what matters? Still_ , he thought as he came back from a night out in a pub with friends, _it’s good to be home and it’s good to – oh my._

The mysterious Birthday Fan had struck again. Without a seconds thought, Tom opened the card, set it with all of his other cards after reading the familiar graceful, old-fashioned script (this girl really does go all out), opened the cake box, helped himself to The Cake while opening the rest.

He didn’t even bother to text Luke to come over.

That was his mistake.

No sooner had he started cutting a second piece for himself, when a great wind blew up, banging his windows open with a startling clatter, whipping up the paper strewn about and dangerously rattling antiques and knick-knacks artfully placed about the room. A blinding light erupted outside on his balcony and before he could open his mouth or reach for a phone or run for the door, Tom’s balcony door was blasted open with an over-zealous kick.

Iron Man strode in.

Tom’s jaw dropped.

“Rob-Robert?” He managed to cough out, cake in hand, prepared and willing to defend his odd position – Illegally Magnificent Cake and all. “What the hell?”

The face plate popped open, revealing Robert who looked rather grumpy for some reason, just as the rest of folks out on the balcony also strode inside to join their compatriot. Scarlett and Jeremy and Chris and Chris… _Where’s Mark?_ That was the idiotic question that popped into Tom’s mind as he eyed the actors standing there staring at him with shock over The Cake Which No One Can Say No To In Their Right Mind.

“Um, hey guys…” A beat. “Where’s Mark?”  
“Mark who?” asked Robert.  
“Mark,” Tom laughed and turned away to fish out a few more plates. “You assembled the Avengers and forgot your Hulk?”  
“The Hulk doesn’t travel well with the Bifrost,” Chris (Evans) bit out.  
“Oh. Right. Yes,” Tom nodded repressing a snort. “Is that what you’re going to tell him when you explain to him why you left him out of my surprise birthday party? What did you guys get out on my balcony – some floodlights and a wind machine? My landlord will have a fit – hey, how did you guys talk Luke into this? Ehehehe… I must say that for a moment I was just a little freaked out – here – have some cake.”

With that, finding the rest of his forks in the top pull-out drawer, Tom returned to kneel by the Grand Cake of All Cakes and cut another slice, he turned to look up at Robert who was staring at him, dark eyes wide and all frowny.

“Don’t tell me you don’t wanna help me with this. The last time I got The Cake, I had to eat it for two weeks and I gained ten pounds on the strength of it. Not counting what I gained from the thirty pounds of party licorice. Who sends someone thirty pounds of party licorice? Who would eat thirty pounds of party licorice anyways? I mean, I did, but I told you last time – that this fan of mine is a bit –“ Tom paused and eyed the frozen group. “Are you guys… OK?”  
“Sorry,” Robert shook his head quickly and clumped forward. “Seriously, who is Mark?”  
“Mark. Ruffalo. Your best buddy on screen. The Hulk. Green Rage Monster. Robert, are you in… character?” Tom paused. “Should I go get my Loki costume I was sent two years back? It’s in pristine condition.”  
“I see.” Robert said suddenly, quietly and quickly, dark eyes darting about the house.  
“You see what?” Jeremy glanced again for the tenth time out of the door into the balcony.  
“We’re in the right place, but we aren’t in the right place.”  
“Tony,” Evans said, “you aren’t making sense. Again.”  
“Sorry. Um. How to say this… Wait. The signal is still here… that’s… odd… leading…”  
“Hey – wait – what –“

Tom floundered as he followed Robert (who was starting to give him the creeps) and Scarlett into the fan room. The rest following behind bumped into him as they crowded into the small room at the door. There was an appreciable silence which followed.

“I just have a few things stashed away in here,” Tom said. “You said that it wasn’t a bad idea, Chris!” He glanced at Chris here – who returned the look with a stolid gaze of blankness.  
“I have no knowledge of this Chris of whom you speak.”  
“Dammit, Chris, this is no time for-”  
“You are an actor,” Robert turned around. “You acted as Loki in a film.”  
“Yes,” Tom turned and rolled his eyes and then quickly leaned forward to lift his precious Hot Toys out of Robert’s metal grasp. “And these are my fan’s gifts. Ha ha ha. Silly Tom.”  
“Well, this isn’t good,” Jeremy said succinctly from somewhere behind. “You screwed up, Tony. Again.”  
“It was a shift in space-time,” protested Robert. “Hardly my fault. And the signal still leads here. Right…” His hand hovered over a small wood box, he opened it and peered at the crystal. “Thor. Does this look like it?”  
“Yes! Stark! My father will be forever in your debt for recovering such a valuable article so swiftly-”  
“Woah! Woah! Woah!” Tom intervened here, his hand suddenly closing the box cover and shifting it a bit away from the others. “This isn’t funny guys. This is my stuff. It was given to me-”  
“This is your stuff,” agreed Robert/Tony. “Well, mostly it’s your stuff. But that rock sure as hell isn’t. How did you get it?”  
“A fan sent it to me in the mail.”  
“In the mail?” snorted Scarlett.  
“Yes. It was sent to me in the mail. For my birthday.”  
“And you handled it?” Chris asked, stepping forward and pulling himself up to his full height and looking very solemn and serious and a little upset.  
“Yes. I mean, I took it out and held it for a little bit. Just to see all the sides.”  
“Well, there goes that,” sighed Robert.  
“But it’s mine so I don’t see how this-”  
“It isn’t yours,” Scarlett shook her head. “Stark, tell the man. Stop beating about the bush.”  
"Why me?”  
“Because you usually can’t stop talking anyways, you’d end up unhappy with how we were explaining it and you’d end up taking over-”  
“Fine, fine,” Robert waved a hand. “Look here, Tom. Or whatever your name is.”  
“What-” Tom was interrupted by another wave of Robert’s gloved hand.  
“Listen, I’m sorry, but this might be hard for you to understand or accept. We are not your friends or whoever you think we are. We aren’t actors or whatever making a film. We’re the real deal from another universe.”

Tom’s blue eyes widened and his hand tightened about the box slightly at Robert’s words.

“I’m not lying. Look. Call your friend. Your Robert friend. Talk to him. In this universe, I guess we never existed… that’s fine. Whatever, we can get over that, although your world might not-”  
“Stark!” ‘Evans’ frowned.  
“OK, scratch that last part, but what I mean is that somehow your world which never saw hide nor hair of us somehow got the Crystal of Uir’Cuil. Don’t ask. Well, OK. What can I say… it’s not yours, it’s not ours-”  
“It belongs to the Odin All-Father,” ‘Chris’ interjected.  
“Yes, but it was created by the Light Elves of Alfheim,” Robert/Tony rolled onward. “Loki disappeared with it a few years ago and we have only just managed to catch a signal from the gamma-like waves which appear to radiate off of it. I guess the signal was faint since it must have resonated through the opening of a pathway between our universes. Loki must have come here and put it here.”  
“Nobody put it here,” Tom said stubbornly, “I did. It came in the mail. It arrived at my door. With The Cake. This year it’s green and black; last year, the cake was red and gold.”  
“Hm. A cake and presents. Red and gold? That’s interesting. Thor, is Loki in the habit of giving a person presents?”  
“Not to my knowledge-”

Tom blinked. They hadn’t called him on his blatant lie. They had seen the photos of the standard cake which he had received last year. _Unless they are playing dumb… Whoever thought this up is going to… I don’t know what, but it’s going to be bad._ Tom was getting more annoyed now.

“OK, guys,” he raised a hand, “you can stop now, seriously.”  
“We are being serious,” ‘Evans’ raised a golden eyebrow. “Call your friend as Stark suggested.”  
“Maybe I will,” Tom snapped back.  
 _  
And if I call, who will I get – some Candid Camera nonsense or… if someone says Loki’d, I’m going to strangle them. I will. I will._

“Just hand over the Crystal.”  
“I have no interest in-”

Before Tom could start to properly wrestle for the box and the crystal, there was a poof, a small wind in the room which whipped up a stack of fan art, toppled a few handmade models of Coriolanus, Loki and Henry V, a FOOF of green smoke and suddenly Tom found himself shoulder to shoulder with his look alike.  
  
Letting loose a small scream of surprise, excitement and fear, Tom dropped the box – into Loki’s waiting hand. The Chris/Thor started forward and then paused as Loki held up a hand. Tom stood there frozen as his brain tried to process what he was seeing.

He was seeing magick. He was seeing Loki. He was possibly seeing the Avengers for real. He had tried to serve the Avengers The Cake of Huge Magnficence. The Cake of Huge Magnificence And Potential Evil which had come from the same person who had sent him the real life Crystal of the Poo-bah of Alfheim. The same person who stood next to him protectively.

_Loki._

_Loki in his room. Loki in his room._

_Loki._

_Loki alive in his room. Loki alive and angry in his room._

_Loki._

_Oh shit. I’m gonna die._

_Or not. He’s a fan._ Tom found a giggle rising and a few tears glimmered on his eyelashes, which he quickly wiped away with his hands, rubbing his eyes hard as he looked about the room at his visitors.

“OK,” he finally said, “I think I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.”  
“That’s our line,” Hawkeye grumbled. “And it’s that bastard’s fault. Again.”  
“I was putting the thing to good use,” sniffed Loki, handing over the box carefully to Thor with sigh. “I had meant no harm.”  
“You gave it to a mortal!” Thor said.  
“You give Jane things all the time,” retorted Loki. “If you thought she would appreciate that as a necklace you would have had it mounted already. Do you even know what it does to a mortal?”  
“No…” Thor admitted slowly.  
“What does it do?” asked Iron Man curiously, eyeing Thor as the muscled god stowed the artifact away in a small side satchel.  
“Nothing,” Loki replied unconvincingly. “Probably nothing.”  
“He handled it,” Scarlett – _no, the Black Widow_ \- eyed Tom as though he was about to grow two heads at any moment and breath fire.  
“Did you read the words inside the lid of the box before you handled it?” asked Loki.  
“Um…” Tom scratched his head. “Well, yeah, I guess so. Maybe? It was a few years ago! I can’t be expected to-”  
“It would do well for you to remember-”  
“Well, I hardly can-”  
“If he were to say the words and then handle it, what could potentially happen?” Tony’s voice cut through Thor and Tom’s arguments.  
“It would change his very being,” Loki shrugged, “and render him impervious to most kinds of harm.”  
“You mean it made him into a super human?”  
“I do not think it makes him a super human… but more indestructible, I should say.”  
“So if I tossed him off the balcony then he’d be OK?” asked Hawkeye with no little rancour in his voice.

Tom could tell that this assassin was tired of Loki’s shit already. _Great. Just great. I have inter-dimensional people in my house. And they are the Avengers. And they are pissed. And Loki is here. And I’m indestructible. Supposedly._

“We could experiment-”  
“No experiments!” the Captain cut off Tony Stark. “Have you experienced in odd moments where you weren’t hurt when you should have been?”  
“Well,” Tom thought back. “I have more energy these days. I don’t get ill or tired as much… and I was able to do all of my stunt work – and –“ A pause as he remembered that one time when he had slipped and fallen off the edge of a green-screen platform and all he had gotten was a teeny-tiny bruise on his knee when the doctors had been expecting for his legs to have broken. He had been lucky, they had told him, very lucky.

 _Lucky thanks to Loki_ , Tom blinked glancing over at the tall, familiar figure of the God of Mischief. Loki’s hair was shorter, still black, his skin still pale and his armour still a little battered. Yet, over all, the God did look a little more happier and less restless and manic than Tom was used to seeing in the films.

“And?” Thor prompted.  
“There was that one time when I slipped and fell off the edge of a platform on set. They said I should have broken my legs – but I guess I fell right and all I got was a tiny bruise on my knee. That was – oh and there was that other time when – oh – ohhhh….”

Tom’s voice trailed off as other odd memories cropped up and all the puzzle pieces began to snap into place. That one time his whole family and group of friends had gotten ill and he hadn’t. How his hairline had stopped receding. How he never felt overly tired.

“You saved my career and my life,” Tom whispered, looking at Loki with awe. “How can I… How can I… thank you…”

Without thinking twice, Tom’s arms were rising up and around Loki who stood there stiffly in Tom’s trademark bear hug. Loki didn’t respond but as time ticked onward for a few awkward moments, the lean, muscled demigod relaxed a little as Tom continued his stifling bear hug, swaying back and forward. Drawing back, eyes a bit wet, the actor patted the demigod on the back.

“Thank you, Loki.”

Behind him, a throat cleared. A cough sounded. Tom glanced back and nearly laughed at the row of wide eyes and dropped jaws which greeted them.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Tony was mumbling to himself.  
“You may be spared of finishing it-” Loki moved forward, but stopped as Tom drew him again into another side hug.  
“Come on,” Tom was saying. “Let’s finish that cake.”  
“Yes, yes,” Tony finally recovered, nudging the Captain who also nodded.  
“Great idea.”  
“I need help anyways, Loki,” Tom smiled. “It’s too big.”  
“It is?”  
“Uh, yeeahhh… Did you see the size of it?”  
“But for a feast-”  
“I don’t do feasts for my birthday.”  
“Oh,” Loki looked down and then away, obviously embarrassed.  
“But now I can,” Tom smiled, encouragingly, “with you here.”

Loki looked up then.

“You are laughing at me.”  
“No, no, I’m not. I’m laughing with you.”  
“I’m not laughing.”  
“You will be,” Tom said, snorting a little, as he led his way back to The Magnificent Cake Of Loki. “You will be.”

Already Thor was towering over it and exclaiming something about the style of the cake.

“You made him a cake with your own hands?” crowed Thor.  
“You did?” Tom blinked.  
“He did?” Everyone chimed in – in further shock.  
“With magic,” Loki said grudgingly, “but yes, I am capable of cooking. And baking. Any good alchemist knows how to measure. Unlike some other oafs I know who wouldn’t know the underside of a ladle from a pot.”  
“Well,” Tom said, “I’m honoured to have enjoyed your cakes. They are marvellous and whenever I shared them with friends. They loved The Magnificent Cake.”  
“What’s it called?” asked Hawkeye, accepting a slab from Tom.  
“The Magnificent Cake.” Tom hesitated. “Well, that’s not the official name. My name for it. Loki probably has the proper name to the recipe.”  
“It is a great name,” Loki said, accepting a mountain of cake from Tom.

They ate and talked and listened to music and talked some more and ate some more of the cake. Tom knew that it definitely would not last him a week now. But that was OK. He was sharing it with Loki.

“So, did you put the ring on yet?” Loki asked him conversationally as Thor passed over the wine bottle Tom had dug out from his cupboard.  
“No,” Tom said. “It looked too small to fit. Why? What does it do?”  
“What ring?” asked Thor, blue eyes flashing with suspicion.  
“Nothing,” Loki replied blandly, winking at Tom. “Just a small trinket I found for Thomas.”  
“I appreciate it, Loki,” Tom said with a smile.  
“You are not angry,” Loki said.  
“No, of course not,” Tom hastened to reassure the Trickster. “Why would I be?”  
“I brought you trouble, admittedly trouble was not my intent.”  
“It’s OK. Really. Although, I must admit I don’t know why you sent the things in the first place – or why you didn’t show yourself sooner.”  
“I… I cannot say,” Loki looked away and then shrugged. “I was travelling and fell into this land and stayed here for some time as a respite… and I saw your films. Your portrayal… it was… pure. Honest. Respectful. Daring. Everything I had done laid out and somehow in your heart there was an ability to forgive, to feel compassion for one such as I. You have brought honour to the name of Loki. For that I am eternally grateful, and being so, how could I not repay you?”  
“Well…” Tom paused. He found that he didn’t know what to say. “Thank you. I am glad I have your blessing. And I hope you will feel free to come around the same time next year and deliver your cake yourself – but of course you can come whenever you please.”  
“I would like that,” Loki said.

He did.

> "Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better" . - (Twelfth Night, Act III, Scene I)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, feel free to check out my other Loki fics. XD Thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think~  
> \--KI


End file.
